Until the End
by RosettaStarlight
Summary: What if the Maximoff twins were the Maximoff triplets? What if he was separated from Wanda and Pietro in the explosion that destroyed their building? What if he grew up with the Avengers after they saved him a year later? What happens when they're finally reunited?
1. Chapter 1

It's amazing how it only took one day for my life to completely change without any chance of ever being normal again. Good times come and pass so quickly in the blink of an eye. It was only an hour ago when Wanda, Pietro, and I had been playing outside together until Mother told us to come inside for dinner. We had been sitting at the table, eating when disaster struck Sokovia.

We were only ten when the bombs fell from the sky. Our parents went to check it out, and I ran after them. Almost immediately, I felt hands tugging me back. I looked behind me to see Wanda and Pietro grasping my arm tightly.

"Don't go!" Wanda cried desperately. "It's too dangerous!"

"It'll be alright!" I replied. "Just hide under the table! I'll be back, I promise!"

Reluctantly, Pietro pulled away, and dragged Wanda beneath the table, watching me with wide, worried eyes. I gently kissed Wanda on the forehead for reassurance, and turned to Pietro.

"Look after her," I ordered. With that I ran off, leaving them alone. The rubble fell around me as I searched for Mother and Father. I couldn't find them anywhere, and my mind went to the worst possibility as I listened to the screams and cries all around me. All the pain and fear I could hear in those cries, causing tears to come to my eyes.

Giving up on my search, I was about to go back to Pietro and Wanda when a large piece of debris fell from the ceiling. As it approached, I braced myself for the impact, silently praying that if I die, at least my brother and sister would be safe. It all went dark after that.

I slowly opened my eyes to see piles of debris around me, clouds of dust slightly obscuring my vision. It took a moment to realize the huge chunk of ceiling on top of me and the burning pain in my left leg. It seemed like the explosions had stopped by now. I pushed the piece of rubble off me with any strength I had left, and fumbled for my glasses, which had fallen off in all the chaos. Instead my hand touched something else. No, not something, _someone_. When I saw who it was, it became suddenly hard to breathe.

Father laid there, unmoving, his eyes staring blankly ahead. A few feet away I saw Mother looking the same: dead.

 _"You_ _are_ _stronger_ _than_ _you_ _know,"_ she said to me once when I was younger. _"Remember that."_

But was I really? That was the only thought running through my head as I sobbed onto their dead bodies. I would try to be strong, but was I really?  
After what felt like hours of just laying there, I remembered Wanda and Pietro, waiting for me to come back. I had to go back, for them, I _promised_ them I would come back. They needed me now more than ever.

Reluctantly, I stepped away from the bodies of my parents, and attempted to stand up. The sharp pain in my left leg increased, and I fell back down, hissing in pain. I looked up, where the door leading to the living room was only a few feet away. Ignoring the pain, I pushed myself up and dragged myself over to the door.

I peeked inside once I was close enough to see more debris. A missile was rammed into the floor next to the table, right in front of where I told Wanda and Pietro to hide. I don't know how long I stayed in that spot, thinking of the possibility that they were dead or still alive, and what to do. Either way, I couldn't save them. If they were alive, and I tried helping them out, one wrong move could doom all of us, but if they were dead...I didn't want to even think about it.

I stood there until I heard the heavily arm soldiers break through the front door. I looked up at them in fear and alarm, but I knew I couldn't outrun them if I tried. The most I could see of them clearly without my glasses was the strange symbol on their arms. It was a black octopus in a red background. With their masks covered their face, I couldn't tell man from woman, and they all wore black, heavy machinery.

"Found another one!" shouted the closest the moment he noticed me. Soon the rest of the soldiers came, and roughly grabbed me. My leg made me cry out in pain, but they made me stand anyway. I continuously tried to fight them off until one slapped me, sending my head jerking to the side. That didn't stop me though, even when they shackled me. I gave a last look to where I expected Wanda and Pietro to be, and prayed they wouldn't find them. Then I noticed an electric blue eye trying to peer past the missile in front of them. Pietro.

I almost cried in relief, but stopped myself just in time. "Wanda! Pietro!" I screamed, hoping they would at least hear me. "Help me!" The soldiers didn't know whether or not they were alive, so that was safe enough. I didn't really care, as long as they knew I was alive, that I kept my promise.

Suddenly, Pietro looked straight into my eyes, and looked away, his eye disappearing behind the missile. My heart felt like it shattered in two, the way he just turned away when he saw me in trouble. Whenever I needed his help, he would drop whatever he was doing and try to help me, no matter what the cost, and it wasn't like I expected him to do anything, but what I didn't expect was for him to turn his back to me when I needed his help the most.

"Help!" I screamed again. As they dragged me out the door, literally kicking and screaming to anyone who could hear me, I stole one last glance at Mother and Father's lifeless bodies. They had been good parents, but nothing could prepare me for what I would go through for the next year of my life. My screams fell on deaf ears. Everyone else I knew was either dead, or like me. All I saw was destruction, blood, and toys that would never be played with again.  
Sunlight blinded me once I finally set foot outside, and I blinked a few times, wanting to glimpse the remains of my home. Before I could get a good view, the soldiers shoved me into the back of a truck.

Though I couldn't see them, I could feel the presence of others children, children all now orphaned like me, their sobs filling the silence.

"If any of you so much as makes a peep, you'll be knocked unconscious!" one soldier threatened. Everyone else obeyed, quieting their sobbing, but that was against the way I was raised. Yeah, it was stupid to go against their wishes, whoever these people were, but I'm a fighter, always have been.

"Somebody, anybody!" I cried, trying one last final attempt. "HELP!"

The soldier quickly placed a cloth my mouth, holding it securely as I struggled to get it off. As I breathed in, I could feel myself getting dizzy, the world going in and out of focus, and drowsiness consumed me. My eyelids closed, and it all went black once more.

A sudden cold blast of water jerked me awake. I looked up to see a man in a white lab coat, grinning like a child on Christmas. He had a clipboard in his hand, and a group of similarly dressed people stood behind him, all wielding some sort of medical equipment. My eyes had to adjust to the bright laboratory lights. When I finally blinked the spots from them, I noticed I was lying in a cold, steel table, my hands and feet bound.

I began hyperventilating as I struggled to get out to no avail. The harsh restraints bit into my skin. My eyes shot around the room, looking for a helpful soul, but finding none.

"So glad you could join us, Mr. Maximoff," the man smiled.

"Where am I?!" I cried, panic and fear taking over. "Who are you people?!"

The man chuckled, a sound that hurt my ears. "My name is Dr. Hummel. Congratulations," he grinned. "Your little stunt in the truck earned you a special spot in my project. You should feel honored."

But all I felt was scared. Scared as the grinning man came closer to me with a syringe in hand. I cried out in fear, and continued my attempts to free myself from the restraints.

"Get away from me!" I shouted, trying my best not to let my fear show. "Stop!"

"This may hurt," the man said sympathetically before plunging the syringe into my skin. It stung my skin as the glowing blue liquid inside entered my system.

I screamed.

Fire ran through my veins, racing, surging, and dominating. My nerves convulsed and twitched with every bursting flame. I could feel it everywhere, little streams of fire in my veins, and scorching heat in my nerves. I just wanted the pain to stop, anything at all to stop it.

To take my mind of it, I let it linger on my family. My loving parents who I will never see again, my brother and sister, who'd always been there for me as I had for them, and the memories. All the memories that came back to me at that moment. I might never experience that again.

Finally, I passed out from exhaustion and pain, hearing the scientist murmur among each other. The man standing above me merely grinned. I heard him say, right before everything faded away, "Welcome to your new life."

(So, this is the first book where I'll have first person point of view about one person throughout the story. I'll try the best I can at least. And I know, this was an idea I couldn't get out of my head, so here we are. And whoever clicks on this to read, I feel so honored you took your time to read this! Enjoy! It's not the best, but it'll get better, I promise!)


	2. Chapter 2

If not for the guard who shoved me in my cell for what felt like the thousandth time, I would have forgotten what day was today. Today was my eleventh birthday. That means it's been a year, a year since the shells blew up my home, a year since my parents died, and a year since I was experimented on. Somehow, everyone else they'd taken had all died, all except me.

Dr. Hummel had only beamed when he heard the news, telling me that he knew I was special. Well, the only thing special about me was the abilities the experiments gave me.

I sat on the floor, waving a finger in the air, blue energy flowing from my fingertips, surrounding one of the wooden blocks in front of me as I lazily lifted it into the air with my mind. Slowly, I spread out the energy using one hand, and the others rose up into the air too. As much as I hate to acknowledge it, my powers were getting stronger. Before I had to use a both my hands, and it such a took a toll on my mind, it gave me bad headaches that would last for hours. Everyone concluded so far that I had the power of energy manipulation, mind control, telekinesis, and mind reading.

Then there was my other one. Super speed, I think Dr. Hummel called it. It had taken me a few months to master that one. At first I kept feeling this urge to move and twitched a lot, and ran into the walls when I was only trying to walk to the other side. Everything goes in slower motion for me sometimes. Soon, I was able to teach myself that whenever my super speed acted up to go slow, painfully slow. Now I can actually walk without accidently speeding off and banging into the walls (I actually still have a few bruises from those).

Over the months, my brown hair had grown long, almost to my shoulders, my skin paled from lack of sunshine, I could see clearly without glasses, and my once brown eyes were now a crystal blue, both side effects of the experiments. I learned who my captors were eventually: an organization called H.Y.D.R.A.

Their methods were cruel, most I'd learned the hard way. I caught a peek once of what they did to people like the Winter Soldier. Reading the mind of the guards escorting until I found one with the info I wanted, his real name was James Buchanan Barnes. He had a life before he came here, but they wiped his memories so he'd be their perfect soldier. That was it.

I remember using mind control over one of the agents guarding the door to my cell to unlock it two months ago. He did as I asked, and let me out.

Call me stupid or whatever, but I didn't run away. Instead, I sneaked into the room where they kept the Winter Soldier. He was completely emotionless and hopeless, and I felt this strong urge to help him so sue me. He was their weapon, someone they simply saw as an asset, someone who had no hope or anyone left. I knew that feeling.

The room was empty except for him, and I did something that would certainly get me in trouble if anyone found out I was the one who did it (speaking of which, I'm surprised they haven't pinpointed it to me yet). I outstretched my hand, and blue energy flowed out of my hands as I went into his mind, digging through memories of his past: his friends, his life, his family. They were there, just...buried deep.

Then while still keeping hidden, I brought them all back to surface. All those things he'd forgotten, I made sure he remembered, and just like I expected him to, his eyes widened in surprise and horror once I did. He looked around at his surroundings as if seeing them for the first time. Footsteps could be heard on their way downstairs.

 _Whether you want to thank me or curse me out, I would suggest getting out of here before they wipe your mind again,_ I said into his head. _Especially if they found out you remember everything. And don't you dare spend the next few seconds sitting there like a lump._

Almost instantly, he turned his gaze to my direction. The footsteps were closer now, and I ran, arriving back at my cell in seconds. Quickly, I controlled the guard to lock me inside again and to forget everything before this happened, so it seemed like I'd been there the whole time.

The next few minutes were spent trying to hide a smile as H.Y.D.R.A agents were panicking that the Winter Soldier had escaped. Now I only hope he made it out with an actual chance for a normal life, something he sure hasn't had since 1945. It had been two months, but I hadn't heard anything about him. Nothing good, but nothing bad either. That alone was good news.

I couldn't leave yet, not until I was sure I had full control. But this was as much control as I was probably going to get. At first, I had thought to wait for the right opportunity when I came here, but I was officially done with waiting. What was I gonna do, wait here forever until someone finally decides to give me an chance to run? No way.

Dr. Hummel wanted me to learn how to learn to use my new powers to my advantage, well that's what I'm doing. One corner of my lip lifted upwards as I remembered my plan. With a jerk of my hand, all the blocks in the air smashed together, exploding into tiny wooden pieces.

"Hey, Jeremy," I called out to the nearest guard. By now I knew them all by name, and two were always nice to me, Jeremy being one, which made me almost feel bad for what I was about to do.

"Yeah, kiddo?" he smiled, peering at me through the bars.

"I just wanted to thank you and Sam for being here for me," I shrugged. "And I'm really sorry because after today you're probably going to get either killed or fired-hopefully the latter-after today."

"What-" He never even got to finish his sentence before I sent the blast of energy into his face, sending him flying across the room until he hit the wall. He stayed slumped against it, his eyes closed.

Concentrating on the lock on the door, it unlocked, and I simply pushed it open. Walking over to Jeremy, I rifled through his pockets for a second before coming up with his wallet, his access card, and the small map he drew to help him remember his way around. For once, his taking extra measures with his stuff was his downfall.

A twinge of guilt found its way into my mind, but I pushed it back down. Now is not the time to back out. I'm getting out of here if it kills me, and nothing is going to stop me.

Reading the map over, and memorizing all the exits, I ran. I passed by many other guards on my way out, but I'm not sure whether they saw me or not. Either way, I didn't stop running until I came face to face with a door a few seconds later. Pushing against it with all my might, it suddenly gave out from under me, and I fell through.

I fought to stay quiet as pain spread through my hands. When I fell, I put them in front to cushion my fall. Big mistake. It took me a moment to realize I was outside. I lifted my head, and gazed in awe at the world around me I hadn't seen for so long.

Snow covered the ground, snowflakes catching in my hair. Winter was here, I almost forgot. As I lifted myself up to my feet, the cold began to set in, but I ignored it. I was actually outside again.

I exhaled, releasing a breath I didn't know I was holding. The loud alarms filling the silence brought me back to reality. Looks like they noticed I was gone. The thought made a smile appear on my face. Took them long enough. I braced myself for the long journey ahead. First things first, I'm getting as far away from here as I can. All that mattered was that I was out, and I'm never going back again.

That was a few weeks ago. Now, I've been living on the streets, making the best out of what I had. Mostly I steal food, money, and recently clothes. I needed something for the chilly weather after all. The jacket I stole was slightly big on me but kept me warm all the same.

I sat in the remains of what used to be our apartment. Despite it being a year, I still remember where I found my parents bodies. And that's where I was right now. I wanted a chance to actually say goodbye and to talk to them one last time. Here, I felt like I was here with them again. But I wasn't staying.

"So not much has changed," I said quietly with a shrug. "Other than everything. I know I said I'd always protect Wanda and Pietro, but... I've done all I could. They've...abandoned me. I've been looking and looking for them, but they don't want to be found, and I've accepted that. The thing is..."  
My breath caught in my throat as tears filled my eyes. When they were alive, Mother and Father had always been there for me to listen to what I had to say, like if I'd had a bad day. They didn't judge or anything, simply let me tell them what was wrong, and help me figure out what to do. But they're not here anymore, and neither are my siblings, so I'm the one who has to decide what to do by myself.

A memory came flooding back, one that only caused my blood to boil against my skin. You would not believe the effort that goes into not letting what happen now tarnish the good times. All the good times we had in this small apartment, like how the three of us made a pact when we were seven, although I doubt they remember it. We promised we would never be alone, we'd always be there for each other, and look out for each other until the end.

"Guess the end came sooner than I thought," I mumbled out loud, venom lacing my words. No, they're not here for me anymore. I thought this would be the time we'd stick together to get through this, but I was wrong. I'm on my own. I had looked out for them the best I could, and now it's out of my hands.

"I can't stay here, in Sokovia I mean," I finally choked out. "This was my home, except it doesn't feel like home anymore. It's just another reminder of everything I've been through, and I want to start over. The only reason I would've stayed after all this happen was Wanda and Pietro, and as you can see, that's a lost cause." A wry smile pulled at the corners of my lips. "I'm leaving today. Plus it's a better opportunity to get away from H.Y.D.R.A. I love you both, and I wish you were both still here, but I have to go now."

My heart feeling heavy with each step I took away from the spot, I made my way out of the destroyed building. I already had passage if I only used my powers. They'd never know the difference. Besides, I've always wanted to travel to America, see what it's like.

Wrapping my arms tight around myself to keep warm in the frigid air, I glanced over my shoulder one last time at my old home, and walked away. Dr. Hummel was right. This was the beginning of my new life, one without my family or friends, all who are dead in my eyes, where I was a different person than when I went in. Ezra Maximoff was dead and I'm not sure who I am now, but I'll figure it out along the way.

Sleepily, I opened my eyes, and turned my head to gaze out the window of the airplane. Up here, I had a clear view of the clouds. Not many of the people on board with me really paid attention to me except maybe the flight attendant and the nice old woman sitting next to me. She kept asking me where my parents are. I told her half a lie and half a truth. The truth part being that my family had died in a bombing in Sokovia, and the lie being that I had a family member waiting for me in New York, where the plane was heading.

The sympathy she showed me was almost overwhelming, her comforting nature reminding me of my mother. But I was glad she at least cared. At first, it was a little scary, being so far from the ground, but eventually, I stopped noticing how high we were and how far we'd drop should something go wrong, and started noticing the beautiful sight up here. After I finally calmed down a few hours ago, I ended up falling asleep against the window glass.

According to the announcement, we've reached our destination. I stretched a bit, hearing my stiff bones crack, and watched as we flew closer and closer to the ground. In a few minutes, the plane was down and I got out, hiding myself in the crowd of passengers, keeping my head down.

Throughout the entire trip, the only thing I brought with me was a messenger bag filled with whatever I pleased to fill it with. Most of it was stolen anyway, but hey, do you see any better way to get what I need to survive? No.

Every once in a while, someone would glance my way, probably wondering what an eleven-year-old was doing by himself at an airport. I simply kept my head down, and struggled to keep my breathing even though my anxiety had my heart pounding in my chest. I've always been nervous around people ever since H.Y.D.R.A kidnapped me, although in my defense, that's not something that makes you feel safe around large crowds, especially if you're walking through an airport filled with an endless sea of people. It came to the point that when a man grabbed my shoulder, I cried out, whirled around, and shot a blast of blue energy at him. He landed on the floor, and when he pushed himself up, looked at me in amazement.

Horror-stricken by what I did to an innocent person, and filled with fear at what would happen now that everyone here had just seen everything, I did the only thing I could think of. I pulled my messenger close to my chest, and ran. I ran and ran until I ended up in an alley somewhere. I pressed my back against the wall of the nearest building and slid down, pulling my knees to my chest as I laid my face on them and wrapping my arms around my legs, probably looking like what I was: A homeless, hopeless little kid with no one left.

Tears that had been threatening to fall for a long time finally came running down my cheeks. All the tears from being abandoned, of my parents death, of my captivity in a H.Y.D.R.A base, of facing the unknown alone were coming out. Once it had gotten started, it was hard to stop.  
When I finally determined the time for crying was long gone, I pulled myself together. No time for a pity party. Time to face it all head on. I could do it. After all, I would be strong for Mother, I had to be.

"Hey, kid, what are you doing down there?"

My head shot up at the sound, catching sight of the owner. A man with dirty blond hair peered down at me with a mix of curiosity and pity. I wiped my eyes that felt puffy from crying with the heel of my hand, and glared at him. I wasn't in the mood for any interrogating.

"None of your business," I snapped. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are. People always say they're fine even if they're not," he replied calmly, unaffected by my cold tone. A bit unsettled, I moved over so a few feet separated us as he sat beside me, knees drawn up and laying his hands on his knees. "So where're your parents? I'll take a wild guess and say you're not from around here."

"If my parents were around, do you really think I'd be here?" I sighed, my anger burning out. "They're dead. And what gave me away, my accent?"

For a moment, silence passed between us. Then the man sighed, "Maybe. Or it could be that there's a report on the news about a kid who looks exactly like you who shot a bright blue light at a man at the airport. Speaking of which, he's fine, and he's actually the one who told me to look for you." I widened my eyes, and made a move to get up, but he stopped me with a hand. "You're not in trouble. He's an agent for an organization called S.H.I.E.L.D who was curious why you were wandering about by yourself, so am I. And your accent _is_ pretty thick."

The last part was a tease, and I couldn't help but smile. "Is not."

"Is too," he smirked. "Name's Clint Barton. If you come with us, I promise you'll be safe."

"Really? You promise? My siblings promised something too, and they haven't kept it. They're still alive, yet they decided to leave me to fend for myself," I said, unable to help the bitterness that entered my voice. Once I actually said it out loud, it made me realize how hurt I really was by it. As much as I tried to convince myself it was fine, it wasn't, it never would.

"Whoever they are, they must be horrible at their job. Looking after each other is a full-time occupation, and they'd probably have their hands full with you. Don't worry. I cross my heart and hope to die you'll be safe with us," he smiled. "So, you in, kid?"

"First of all, my name isn't kid, it's Ezra," I retorted, folding my arms across my chest. "And second, if that's true about me being a handful, I'll probably make you guys miserable."

"Hmm, I'll take that as a yes then?"

"What do you think?"

With that, he got up, and held his a hand down to me. After a few moments contemplating my choice, I took it and got up. "So what are you going to do with me?" I asked.

"Well for now you're too young, but maybe when you're older, you can be a new agent for S.H.I.E.L.D. At the moment though, let's just say my boss doesn't like you being out in the street where you can cause more trouble so...how do you feel about being our new addition to our family? It does get a bit boring at Stark tower after all," he said casually, walking with me on the sidewalk. I've heard about Stark a few times, but I can never remember where. "I doubt my teammates would mind a little kid such as yourself running around. Better there than here."

Despite myself, I smiled at the word family. I haven't had a family for over a year already. A gut feeling told me everything would be alright, but I couldn't help being a little cautious. "I'll try you guys out, see how you do," I smirked cockily with a shrug of my shoulders.


	3. Chapter 3

Taking a deep breath, I followed Clint into Stark Tower, taking a moment to marvel how big it was. He showed me into the elevator, and he pressed the button to the floor. He waited for the doors to open while I couldn't keep my eyes from exploring everything around me.

The doors opened to reveal the communal floor as Clint called it, and I couldn't help but stare. While it's modern, from the stainless steel kitchen appliances in the kitchen and bar to black, white, and chrome furniture in the sitting room, I think I'll like it here when I take in the flat screen TV above an unlit fireplace that's flanked by two built-in floor to ceiling bookcases filled with books.

There were no walls dividing the sitting room, bar, and kitchen, the floor being one big expanse room with the only wall being that of the glass window that ran floor to ceiling along the side of the building giving off one amazing view of the city. A man with brown hair, brown eyes and a goatee stood at the bar with a man with short blond hair and a woman with scarlet red hair reaching down to her shoulders. Another man with curly brown hair and eyes sat down on the couch, reading something, and a woman with strawberry blond hair padded barefoot over to Clint. None of them even noticed me until the strawberry blonde hugged him briefly, and saw me over his shoulder.

Trying to ignore their stares, I went into their minds instead, trying to find out as much as I can about them. The redhead narrowed her eyes, and I retreated and turned my gaze to the floor. Once Clint started to explain what I was doing here at Stark Tower, I left the room to go explore while they talked. Might as well look around.

Don't ask me how, I'm honestly really not sure yet, but somehow I ended up crawling through the vents. All I know is I thought I saw something in this small hole in the wall, crawled into it, barely able to fit in (the one time I was glad for how small I am), followed it, and the next thing I know I'm up here. May I just say that it is _dusty_. Do they ever clean these things?

After a while of trying to find my way out (which way is which? They all look the same to me after a while), I found myself back in the living room. Well, not exactly. I'm looking down at it through one of the vents in the ceiling. On the bright side, I can now hear everyone discuss whether or not I stay.

"I found Ezra in an alleyway. He's Sokovian, and he came here to New York by himself just an hour ago," Clint started. "His home was destroyed by a shell, and H.Y.D.R.A kidnapped him. He said they experimented on him as well as the other only survivors of the bomb, all children. They all were barely older than him, and they were kidnapped, drugged, and experimented on right after seeing their apartment ruined and their parents die. And everyone of them except him died because their bodies couldn't take it." Even from up here, I could hear the anger lacing his words. I heard a soft gasp, but I'm not sure from who.

"We could take him to be sheltered at S.H.I.E.L.D, but the kid's only eleven. After a year of being stuck with H.Y.D.R.A cell, I doubt he'd like being kept in a S.H.I.E.L.D room where they'll keep him safe and fed, but trapped because Fury thinks he can't control his powers so if he had his way, he probably wouldn't let Ezra out into society for a long while. He can't trust he'll stay out of trouble," he continued. "Not to mention they'll most likely start poking and prodding him with needles to understand where his powers come from, and what H.Y.D.R.A injected him with."

Someone sighed, and set something down. "This is great and all," the person boredly interrupted. the voice sounding male, "but get to the point. Why are we here?"

"Meet Ezra Maximoff. Your new tower guest." The man who spoke before sputtered at Clint's words.

"Uh, excuse me?" he sputtered. "I didn't sign off with S.H.I.E.L.D about taking in a new stray."

"I didn't say you did, Tony," Clint replied smartly. "But would you listen for a sec?" I hear the man who spoke just a moment ago (Tony?) sound like he was about to say something, but stopped as if someone cut him off. Clint continued, "Look, he has no one else. His parents are dead, and his siblings survived, but they abandoned him so they wouldn't get taken, too, probably. He needs someone."

I have to admit, I was touched by his concern for me. Although the other thought in my head was that he was right. If this didn't work out and I ended up getting turned into S.H.I.E.L.D, I'm running. No way am I going back where I started, back in a cell being experimented on.

"But you just said Fury thinks he can't control his powers," another man's voice spoke up, this one sounding more gentler. My heart began to sink down to my stomach. "Are you sure it's wise to let him stay here with us. Fury could be right. Ezra could be a threat."

"Well if you need someone to vouch for him, I'll do it," Clint deadpanned. "I'll keep him in line."

"So will I," a woman's voice agreed. "He can go into minds, we know that already. I could feel him inside my head. Maybe he just needs to learn to control those powers of his if he can't."

"Well..." a second woman's voice said, sounding uncertain.

"Does he know about us?" another man burst out, sounding different than the other two. "Does he know what he's getting into?"

"No, not exactly, he doesn't know who we are, but he seemed to recognize the name Stark, though, Tony," said Clint. "I'll tell him once he's actually introduced to you guys."

"But does he know about-"

"No, Bruce, he doesn't know about the Hulk." A tone of uneasiness crept into Clint's voice before being replaced by confidence. "But he seemed interested when I told him about your job as a scientist. He's a smart kid, you know. He just might end up replacing Tony as your lab partner."

"Wait a minute, Bruce is already his favorite?!" Tony yelped suddenly. From that I could easily tell all thoughts about not accepting me just flew out the window. I grinned, and just barely stifled a giggle. (Yes, I giggle, but don't expect me to do it in public. It's really embarrassing.) The man who said I might be a threat huffed a laugh, and patted someone on the shoulder, probably Bruce. Tony began quietly muttering ways to win me over, so I guess I've got his favor, but that left the other woman in the room. Other than hearing her contemplate the decision in her head, she didn't seem sure of what decision to make.

"I-I don't know, Clint," she frowned, still nervous. "Are you sure this is the best place for him?"

Clint assured her, "It will be. He's been through a lot, that might've been a panic attack he had at the airport that caused the incident that brought S.H.I.E.L.D'S attention, and just barely even got comfortable with me, but I think if we help him, he'll get better. He's a good kid, just give him a chance."

"If anything," jumped in the woman who said she'd watch out for me, seeing the weak spot and clinging to it, "he'll be more scared of us than we might be of him. He hasn't had a good experience with people after all for the last year, so I doubt he'd bother us."

There was a moment of hesitation before Clint grinned triumphantly. "So everyone votes for Ezra staying?" he said.

There was a sound of mutual agreement before I got bored of being up here. Have they not noticed I'm not even in the room anymore? "Uh, considering I'm the one staying here, I vote for me staying, too," I called from the vents. Everyone looked around the room frantically.

"We take our eyes off the kid for five minutes, and already we've lost him," muttered Tony.

"Ezra? Where are you?" Clint asked, searching the room. I knocked on the vent beneath me to get his attention. It took him exactly five seconds to figure out where I was, and he could only look up incredulously. "How'd you get up there?!"

"No clue," I replied. "Also, how long has it been since anyone cleaned in here?" I asked randomly. A small shape in the corner caught my attention, and when I tapped it with my foot, it felt it was furry and warm. Okay, I draw the line at rats! "Is that a rat?! Can someone get me out now, please?!"

"On it," Clint answered. A few seconds later, I heard a few sounds, and the sound like a ladder's being pulled up next to the couch. The floor creaked from under me only a few moments later, and I cried out as it gave out from under me, sending me upside down against the back of the couch only an inch or so from Bruce.

"Gee, you sure took your sweet time," I said sarcastically, struggling to upright myself. "And no, no, don't worry, I'm absolutely fine after _falling from the ceiling_. In fact, I'm touch by your concern."

"Sorry," Bruce apologized, helping. When I was finally actually sitting upright on the couch, I brushed my clothes with my hands, the dust from being in the vents clinging to it. He was the man with curly hair and brown eyes. "How long you've been up there?"

"Long enough to hear that Tony's upset because he thinks I like you best, that one of the ladies are willing to give me a chance, one is doubtful that I should stay here, the other guy is curious to know if I'm a threat, and Clint's told you everything I told him," I replied with a raised eyebrow.

"So, basically you heard it from beginning to end?" he asked to which I nodded.

"Well that's someone you're going to have a tough time winning over, Steve," Tony laughed, mixing himself a drink. "And less competition for me." The blond man blushed, letting me know exactly that he was Steve, the one who said I might've been dangerous, and gave me a sheepish smile. I shrugged to show him there were no hard feelings.

Clint went toward the elevator with the woman with scarlet red hair. I looked to him, and asked, "Where are you going?"

"Nat here wants to go shopping for you," he explained. The redhead gave me a small smile.

"If you're staying, you might as well have a few outfits to choose from," she said. I beamed at the small message behind it. As they left, I peeked over the couch to see everyone else getting a good look at me.

"Wow, you are not what I was expecting," Tony blurted out. "Nice hair."

" _Tony_ ," the strawberry blonde hissed, shoving her elbow into his ribs. I blinked at the willowy woman, and couldn't hold back a grin at seeing Tony grimace and mutter something about pointy elbows. She turned to me with a grin.

"Hello," she cheerily greeted. "I'm Pepper. It's so nice to meet you." Pepper held out her hand, patiently waiting for a handshake that suddenly had my heart hammering against my chest. I thought I was fine, but now that someone new was trying to shake my hand, I didn't know what to think of it.

Gulping, I glanced from her outstretched hand to Pepper's faltering smile then back again. "It's okay," Steve assured me. "She's perfectly safe. She won't hurt you."

"Oh...oh my goodness," she frowned. "I'm sorry. I forgot all about what happened. I'm sorry about your parents." Her hand falls, and Tony's there to squeeze her shoulder reassuringly. After a moment's hesitation, I held out my hand, and reached forward, watching warily as she gently shook my hand.

I sank back into the couch for safety. Bruce held out his hand for a shake, and I smiled before shaking his hand. A few minutes later, I awkwardly shook hands with Steve, and glared slightly at Tony as I shook his, still annoyed by the hair comment. My hair's not that bad, is it?

"I apologize in advance for anything offending Tony might say or do," Bruce told me.

That earned a small smile from me as well as a grin from Pepper and Steve at seeing our interaction, and a squawk of protest from Tony. "I resent that!"

Steve chuckled at him while Pepper's hand searched out for his to squeeze it reassuringly. When his eyes land back on me, they've taken on a mischievous glint in them. "So, Ezra," he drawled. "What exactly can you do?"

Everyone groaned aloud, and I tensed. Bruce muttered about _that_ not lasting long, and Tony's grin grew into a smirk. "Can you talk to animals? Bend metal with your mind? Ooh, oh, how about read minds? Here, read mine," he blurted out before falling silent. I honestly don't want to see into his mind. "Oh, wait I already know that one."

"Stark, can you not?" Steve sighed before smirking at me. "You see, this is why Bruce apologized in advance. He'll keep it up for a while before calming down and forgetting all about it."

"No, not really," Tony jumped in. "Can you run faster than the speed of light? Teleport? Shapeshift?"

With a slight glare, I lifted up a hand, and blue energy flowed from my fingertips to the cup in front of Tony before lifting it up into the air, and the thought of smashing it down upon his head actually went into consideration, but instead I made it fly into the wall. Before it could hit the ground, I used my super speed, and ran over to it, picking it up, and putting it back on the counter. I leaned against the counter, raised an eyebrow, and said cockily, "Does that answer your question?"

Everyone looked at me incredulously, and I shrugged. "What?"

"Oh, we're gonna be good friends, Ez," Tony said teasingly, reaching over to ruffle my head. With my hair now completely messed up, I glared at him, more so at the nickname. That was Wanda's nickname for me when we were younger that she used to use to annoy me to the point that I once considered strangling her.

"Don't call me that," I snapped, fixing my hair, trying to hide the tears that had begun to gather at the memories. Pepper noticed, but was quick to pretend she hadn't. But who knows. Maybe the tower would do me some good. I'd lost my friends and family, and I might find another here. It's time to accept it, I thought with a small smile. This truly is my new life.

Author's note: Here I am, and I hope you guys all like it. Until next time! Hope you'll stick around 'Until the end'! *laughs, but hears nothing but crickets* Really? Nothing? Tough crowd. So see you around, and in case I don't make it, Happy Belated Thanksgiving everyone!


	4. Chapter 4

After Clint and Nat left, I just stayed in the kitchen, playing around with my powers, lifting things up into the air and simply having them float about in the air. Tony and the others were chatting outside, but I really wasn't paying attention, trying to focus on keeping everything up. Half the time, doing too much for too long has caused it to become harder and harder to keep things up. Still, and maybe it has something to do with being trapped by H.Y.D.R.A, I couldn't help but try to push myself further and further past my limits to see how far I could go.

It wasn't just because it was practically drilled into my head to drive myself to the limit but also because I didn't want to feel as helpless as I did back then ever again. This time, if anyone ever tried to mess with me again, they would regret it.

"Whoa, I think I had a dream like this once," Tony laughed from behind me as he came in the kitchen. I rolled my eyes, and put everything back down where they were before.

"Did it end with a pot smashing your head in?" I huffed, passing past him to the living room. Mostly because I didn't want to be close to so many people right now, I decided to go exploring again (despite what happened last time. I'll be more careful, ok! Don't hold it over my head just because I became stuck in the vents once!). I raced into the elevator while everyone's back was turned, and thought a moment before randomly pushing the button to the ninetieth floor.

The doors closed a second later, and just a moment before the elevator started up, I heard Tony walk into the living room of the communal floor, pause, then say, "We lost him again, didn't we? Clint's gonna kill us."

I stifled a laugh as I settled into the small space. When the doors opened again, I stepped out to look around at wherever I'd ended up, and stopped dead once I realized there was someone on this floor. A man sat calmly on the couch like he was waiting for someone, which he probably was. I slowly stepped forward, keeping my eyes on him as I tried to think of where I'd seen him before. Something about him just didn't sit right. He seemed to keep his mind guarded so I couldn't see into it, and that only brought up my suspicions.

Long, greasy brown hair dangled in front of his face, covering it. He had on a black tank top, and one of his arms...glinted in the light. Metal. My eyes widened with the sudden realization.

"You...you are the Winter Soldier," I sounded out slowly and carefully. "Right, Mr. Barnes?"

At the sound of my voice, he moves. His head tilted toward me, and I knew he was watching. In his blue-grey eyes, a flare of recognition pass through them.

"And you're that kid...the success experiment."

"And?" I asked suspiciously. "What about it?"

"You helped me..." he continued, ignoring me. "Why?"

"It's something called basic human decency," I replied smartly, not willing to give my real reason to a former H.Y.D.R.A assassin. Just because I helped him escape doesn't mean I trust him. Like I said, I've seen inside his mind, and I've seen the things he's done. While I feel his regret, that doesn't mean I won't acknowledge that he did do it, even if he wasn't in control of his own actions. H.Y.D.R.A could still be in there somewhere. And I really don't want anything to do with them right now.

"But you still helped me," he stated quietly, looking down. "Even though I don't deserve it."

Sympathy stirred up in me, but I narrowed my eyes, trying not to show weakness. "Yes, I saw," I snarled. "Are you going to keep giving yourself a pity party or tell me what you're doing here?"

"Steve lives here, right?" said the soldier. "And so does Stark?"

"No," I replied sarcastically. "Why would Stark be living in a building with his name on it?"

"You don't want me here, do you?"

"Really, what gave me away?" I gasped, acting surprised.

"Mind cutting the sarcasm?" From beneath all that hair, his eyes narrowed as a slight harshness entered his voice. "You helped me once, remember? I just need your help one more time, and then I'll never bother you again, if that's what you want."

"It is," I nodded, not letting my guard down for one second. "So keep talking."

His eyes darted toward his metal arm, and I quickly followed. That's when I finally noticed it. The wires spilling out of the side, the fingers in a half-bent position, stuck. "It's my arm," he said, dragging my attention back to his face. "It's broken, and I don't know how to fix it."

"Well that's obvious," I mumbled, stepping closer to study it. The damage was horrible, but not unfixable. Like the science project I once made for school when I was nine. "Let me guess, you're looking for your friend, and Tony Stark so they could fix it?" I inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, so could you please get them?" the soldier said.

I thought for a bit, making a real show of it for his benefit before I came to a decision. I hissed, and made a few hand motions to pretend that I was actually conflicted with what to do. I could sense his irritation growing from here. "I could," I agreed, "...but I'm really not in the mood right now, so maybe later." I finished with a chipper fake smile, and moved past him to explore some more.

"I need him to fix my arm," the Winter Soldier persisted, following me down the hallway. I covered my ears, and ignored him.

"I'm sorry; Ezra Maximoff is no longer available. Please leave a message on your way out." Despite my cold goodbye, apparently this man isn't the type to give up since he would not stop following me. Eventually, I just turned around, and looked up to stare him straight in the eye. Now these are times when I hate how small I am, especially since he is so much taller than me. "If you don't leave me alone, I might 'accidentally' toss you out the window. If you don't know already, I can move objects with my mind."

"Great, then I'll just stick around until you help just to get me out of your hair, which needs a haircut." His eyes darted to my shaggy long hair, and I glared.

"Touch it, I dare you." But then I decided to be a little nice, and shrugged, "But maybe I could fix it instead. Believe it or not, I like to think of myself just as good or better than Stark."

"And you both got the ego thing going for you, too," he shot back.

I simply smirked, "I wouldn't suggest insulting me when I'm gonna holding a blowtorch inches away from your face soon."

After a moment of staring each other down, he loudly exhaled. "You know, I think I liked you better when you didn't talk."

"Likewise."

* * *

"Don't move. I almost got it," I murmured quietly, maneuvering a pair of tweezers I found around a wire. I practically had to search throughout the tower before I found one of Tony's labs (he probably has more than one anyway, so hopefully he doesn't use this one often) where I was now working on the Winter Soldier's metal arm. I was lying down on three stools so I could look up into his arm easier. I cursed out loud in Russian as the small piece of...well, something, I went to grab slid in deeper. Can nothing ever be easy?!

"What?" The soldier twisted his head to get to see what I'd done, and I kicked his side.

"I said 'don't move'!" I snapped. He just blinked, staring at me in shock that I dare kick the world's deadliest assassin. Well, call me crazy (and by now I practically consider myself not exactly 100℅ there anymore after everything that's happened), but I really wasn't that terrified. Maybe because I know somehow that he wasn't exactly willing to break that streak of his he's got going. After all, he's been incident-free for the past two months since he was able to lay low for this long. "What?" I questioned innocently. "It's not my fault you won't stop moving. If you don't stay still, whatever this is could end up lodged in something important."

Finally he nodded, and I lifted his arm back up. If I could've I would've just detached the arm. It definitely would've been a lot easier than trying to keep its owner still while I fix it. But of course, H.Y.D.R.A seemed to have fused the metal to his skin somehow when I tried to see if he could remove it. So at the moment, I'm torn between fixing it and taking the small blowtorch I'll be using soon, and mess up whoever did this to him in the first place. And not just about his arm being broken, but for him getting this arm in the first place, his memories being erased, and whatever led him to H.Y D.R.A's clutches in the first place. The man had about as much say in what happened to him as I did. But that doesn't mean I was going to show weakness and admit that to him.  
Grabbing a tiny flashlight so I could see better, I placed it to shine some more light on what exactly the problem was. I've been trying to get out whatever this is for about an hour now. I clicked on the flashlight, and held it between my teeth so I could use both of my hands to work.

The small piece of something that's been giving me so much trouble was stuck behind a gear. Well...at least it's not stuck inside the gear. That would've disastrous in more ways than one. Quickly, I grabbed another pair of tweezers, and moved a wire out of the way and held it there while I wiggled the thing free. Carefully, I took it out, and sat up, bringing the object close to my face so I could look it over.

"Hmm, now what is this?" I pondered quietly to myself. Somehow this small piece reminded me of that dark memory a year ago in Sokovia. Then it hit me.  
I remembered H.Y.D.R.A was trying to train me to be their next deadly weapon. In the last year, I'd been taught about weapons, and I learned on my own how to recognize different types of weapon material as I went along. This was shrapnel. Shrapnel was lodged in this man's arm. Part of a bomb.

Suddenly the explosion began playing again in my mind as it became hard to breathe. Screams. Cries. Pain. Death. Death, so much death and destruction. Flashes passed through my mind. Mother, Father, dead. All the destruction I passed as I was dragged out. The blurry image of the bomb I caught that destroyed everything.

My hand began shaking while the walls began to close in on me, and I tried to remind myself to breathe. Bombs, always bombs. Why was he even near a bomb?

I took a deep breath, and pushed the feelings back down. Just breathe. Everything will be okay, I continued to tell myself. Anytime but now would be great, but right now I'm a little busy.

"What's wrong?" asked the soldier, twisting his head back around again to see what had kept me quiet. And then he noticed my wide eyes and how pale I was as I stared at the shrapnel before I shook my head, shaking the memories from my mind. But they were still there, they'd always be there.

"N-Nothing, nothing's wrong," I managed. "It's just that...this is part of a bomb casing. And, um, with this type of damage..." I trailed off with a frown as the realization set upon me. "What were you doing this close to a bomb? You couldn't have been that close. Not to be in the shape you're in."

"Shrapnel flies," he quietly shrugged. I shook my head again, but this time because I knew he was lying.

"Not to do this type of damage," I retorted, tapping the outer metal casing of his prosthetic. "When your arm was scanned, the computer said that this metal-" I pointed to his arm-"was mixed with vibranium, which I hear is a very special, rare metal. You'd have to be standing very close to a very powerful bomb for this to happen." For a moment there's nothing but silence.

"No, but what's the real reason that small, little shrapnel bothers you so much?" he asked.

"None of your business," I snapped absentmindedly. "Ask me again, and I may or may not 'accidentally ' mess up on your arm and burn your face off."

"You're a bit frosty for a little kid," he chuckled.  
"And you're a bit frosty for an old man so I guess we're even." I laid back down over the stools while the Winter Soldier simply glared at me slightly for the jab at both his age and of being put in cryo so much by H.Y.D.R.A.

"Ha, ha, ha, so funny I forgot to laugh," he said wryly.

"Get used to this," I scoffed, looking over the rest of the damage. "Because judging by this, me and my blowtorch will be here for a while."

"What is it with you and blowtorches?"

"Well, A: I need it to finish this. And B: I just love them. It's cool how they blow out fire, and they can burn up people's faces if you use them the right way."

"Interesting." An uneasy tone entered his voice as he turned his head back around.  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm a weird kid, now, be quiet so I can fix this now that the shrapnel's finally out."

* * *

I glanced toward the scan I made of the Winter Soldier's arm, making sure that the wires I had hold of were in the right place. I missed this. The thrill of making an invention or fixing something. Always, for all these years, inventing things like this...it's always been a distraction for whenever things weren't going my way. A little retreat from the real world when I couldn't deal with the world out there. Sometimes, while the world feels like its falling apart outside, I hide out inside with my inventions. The best way I could ever think of with how to deal with all my emotions was this. Just stash them away into the back of my mind until later.

I was busy trying to find a certain group of wires when the Winter Soldier tried striking up another conversation with me. "Haven't you realized that the robot hasn't said anything yet?" he asked.

I shrugged absentmindedly. "What robot because the only one I'm concerned about is this robotic arm?"

"Stark called it J.A.R.V.I.S," he said. "It's supposed to be the A.I of the building."

I peeked out from where I sat, my attention caught. "You mean like an artificial intelligence thingy that watches over the entire building?" He simply nodded in reply. "Did you have something do with that?" I asked suspiciously.

Suddenly he looked sheepish. "He was going to tell everyone I was here, and I overreacted." I nodded as I reached up from my spot on the stools to grab the pair of tweezers and the small blowtorch I've been waiting to use all this time. "Even the computer thought I was dangerous," he said quietly, looking down at his feet.

I rolled my eyes before begrudgingly taking on the role on the friend becoming therapist. "It's a machine. How can you expect it to know anything other than what it's told? It doesn't get how real people act or feel," I replied, getting back to work.

"Sounds like me." I glanced up at that, perplexed. "I'm a person," he said softly. "And I don't know how to act or feel. Not completely. Even though I'm not with H.Y.D.R.A anymore I still remember them, and I worry they might find me again."

Biting my lip, I simply turned my attention back to my job, glancing down to the wires in my hands. This is not my problem, and I have nothing to say to that. Still, I somehow found myself contradicting, "Well, that was more H.Y.D.R.A then you so you had absolutely no control over it. And about the H.Y.D.R.A finding you again, guess we have that in common, huh?" Craning my neck to look inside his arm, I noticed the thoughts appearing in his head. Immediately, I shut that power down. I'm not in the mood to read minds right now, not when I have something much more important going on here.

"What do you mean?" he asked. The question almost caught me by surprise, but I didn't let that make me pause in my work.

"Well, Soldier," I said, barely catching him flinching at the name, "you seem to forget that your old bosses found me, dragged me from my destroyed home, drugged me, threw me into a van, experimented on me, then threw me into a cell, and trained and tortured me for a year. Not to mention I turned eleven in that cell where my siblings left me to rot."

"How do you know they're alive?"

"I found a newspaper that told of two kids, the 'only survivors'," I said, making air quotes around the words "only survivors". "Didn't even bother to mention me. Just listed me under missing bodies that were unable to be found. My brother could've told them he saw me get kidnapped. but no, He just went on about his business like I didn't even exist." My grip around the wires tightened until my knuckles began to turn white. Calm down, Ezra, I told myself. No need to lose your cool here.

"I...I had a sister named Rebecca," he said quietly. "We were separated after my parents died too. Mind telling me about your parents? I don't remember them much."

"Hmm, gear looks bent out of shape," I mumbled to myself before I registered his question. I swallowed, swallowing the emotions rising up in me as well. "Mother was amazing," I said. "She was the one who taught me how to be a good person, how to study, to grow up to be whoever I wanted. She's the one who taught me about love and how the world works along with Father. Or at least how they thought the world works. I've seen the darker side of the world by now, the horrible things people are capable of." Ignoring the sympathy in his eyes, I grabbed a wrench, and focused on that gear. "When my apartment was shelled, I went after them to find them. Found them dead, buried in rubble. Didn't even look like they had a chance for survival."

"I...I'm sorry," he replied. I didn't say anything for a moment.

"It's fine," I lied. "I'll get over it. I'm a strong kid." The gear finally slid out, and I frowned at the large bent in the shape. "That's another thing I'll have to fix," I mumbled, setting it aside for a second.

"And your dad?"

"He taught me to be strong," I managed after a minute. "He's the one who taught me never to give up no matter what. I learned how to invent from him. He always used to say that when the darkness begins to set in, there's always a little light there. He called it hope, something that you should never give up, because the minute you do, the world's won, and you've lost. I miss them a lot sometimes, so much it hurts." With that, I started working on getting the small gear on the table back in shape, turning my back on the Winter Soldier.

"What about your brother and sister? Do you miss them?" he asked suddenly. While I knew he was asking because he was remembering Rebecca, my blood boiled against my skin at the memory of them and the promise they made so long ago that they broke so carelessly.

"No," I retorted sharply, venom lacing my words. "Maybe I did once, but not anymore. The kid who did died a long time ago. They don't want me around then fine. I could care less. They're the ones who left me when I needed them so who cares about them?"

He was taken aback by my sudden harsh words, but at the moment, I couldn't bring myself to care. "Just don't mention them," I finally relented, focusing on getting this gear back in shape. "My brain doesn't think straight when I get upset." He remained quiet, and I was actually thankful for the silence. Thoughts that tore through my head when I was this angry weren't exactly pleasant, and getting my emotions in check was all I was focused on. Memories of the last time I lost my temper were enough to keep it at bay.

* * *

"This is going to hurt," I said. We were almost (finally!) done, and I was hooking his arm back in. Still not sure how H.Y.D.R.A could do something like this. Connecting a prosthetic to this man's nervous system, I mean. It's just decades ahead of anything we have today, and won't have half as many limitations as normal prosthetics. "If you so much move an inch, you'll mess up everything."

"Got it. I'll be fine."

"You better not writhe in pain then," I grumbled. Glancing at the clock, I knew that either way, I was going to be in trouble for this. It's maybe...11:45 P.M. I've been at this practically all day.

"Don't worry, I'll stay still," the Winter Soldier confirmed.

"Alright, Soldier," I shrugged, picking up a pair of tweezers and a stick. Once again, I couldn't help but witness him flinching at the name again. It just felt like...reflex to call him that. It's hard to forget everything that's happening in the past year after all. "I'll do this quickly as possible. If you think you might pass out, tell me so then I can work on your arm while you're out. Maybe then it'll be easier to fix it without you moving every few minutes."

"Are you sure H.Y.D.R.A kidnapped and kept you?" the Winter Soldier snorted. "Because if it were me, after one day with you, I would've brought you back and just dumped with the authorities. No enhanced is worth that much trouble."

"I get crabby when I'm tired," I defended myself, taking the joke in stride, trying to focus. For some reason, I'm the one taking a deep breath before working my way into his arm.  
"Wait." I jerked my head up to him, saying clearly and irritably into his mind, _You better have a good reason to stop me literally when I could've messed everything up._ "Yeah, yeah," he waved it off with his human hand. "Do you have something to bite down on? I've been told my teeth grind."

I continued to glare at him for telling me this now before opening a nearby drawer. Inside I found a clean washrag, rolled it up, and thrust it out at him. The Soldier took it with his good hand, and stuck it between his teeth as I got ready again, making sure all the tools were right there in case I needed them.

Pushing the wires aside, I used the tweezers to pick up the pieces and connect the wiring I needed. I took another deep breath as I connected the two main pieces, dropping the tweezers quickly when I was done, and began groping around for a screwdriver. I could feel the Winter Soldier tense and close his eyes in pain. Of course, his pain was felt, but I ignored it. The second the screwdriver was in my hand, I worked on another section, screwing it into the slot. An electric screwdriver would take less time but it'd take forever to work into his arm without damaging any wiring. His real hand clenched while the prosthetic fingers twitched slightly. Great, an actual good sign. As I finally screwed the last section into place, he relaxed. True to his word, he hadn't even moved an inch. A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, and he reached up to take the cloth from his mouth. The ordeal couldn't have lasted for more than two minutes, but for him, I could tell it felt like an hour.

"Are you okay?" I asked, finding myself searching for any remaining pain he might feel. The Winter Soldier nodded, and I relaxed, satisfied with my success. "Try testing it out." He glanced down at his metal fingers, and wiggled them.

"Yes!" I cried, pumping my fist in the air. "I'll just have to fix the outer paneling next, and then you'll be good as new, Soldier." This time, I couldn't take the flinch. "Would you stop acting like I'm about to hit you whenever I call you that?"

He bit his lip nervously. "Just don't call me 'Soldier'," he explained. "That's what they used to call me when I was the Winter Soldier. I'm not him anymore. Call me Bucky instead."  
I considered it before shrugging. "Okay, _Bucky_ , now I just need to fix the rest."

"Get some sleep instead."

Though I was tired, I shook my head. "Nope, not doing it. I'll stay up all night if I have to."

"If you don't get to bed, I'll just knock you out and take you up there myself."

I whirled around with wide eyes to see Clint standing in the doorway, arms folded across his chest. Tony and Pepper were behind him.

"So what, I leave you alone with them for ten seconds, and already you break them?" Clint chuckled. "You should have heard Tony panicking over the phone because you disappeared on him."

"And by the way, does anyone know why when I went to check on J.A.R.V.I.S, it looks like someone shot him?" Tony asked. Immediately, I pointed behind me at Bucky.

"Ratted out by the eight-year-old," he snorted. "Wow."

"I'm eleven!" I snapped, turning back to face him.

"What's worse than you guys losing him is that you made me have to deal with him the entire day," he continued with a grin.  
I picked up the small blowtorch off the table. "That's it! I will burn that grin right off your face!" I barely made it two feet before Clint grabbed me. Bucky looked like his life just flashed before his eyes as he jumped back.

"Want to explain why he's here?" Clint hissed.

"Oh, he broke into Steve's apartment so Tony would fix his arm," I clarified in a "duh" tone. "But I didn't want to bother anyone so I did it myself!"

"Wait, wait, wait," Pepper said, holding up a hand as she stepped into the lab. "So you're telling me that because Tony couldn't keep an eye on you, you snuck off, endangered your life, went missing all day while we were worried sick about you, and stayed up all night inventing, just so you could fix the metal arm of the most deadliest assassin?"

"Yeah, but if you look at it that way, its technically all Tony's fault," I said cheerily with a shrug.

"How did you even get in here?" Pepper questioned. "Tony has a password for this lab for when J.A.R.V.I.S is down."

"That part was easy," I shrugged. "'I mean 'SteveRogersIsA-"

My words were quickly cut off as Tony clamped his hand over my mouth.

"Language," he whispered.

"You know what, everyone should just turn in for the night so we can think tomorrow," Pepper sighed.

"Bucky can sleep down here, I'll take the couch upstairs," I said quickly before anyone could object. When Clint opened his mouth to, the breeze that met along with my sudden disappearance told them I'd super speeded upstairs and out of the conversation.

Once I was up on the communal floor in the next few seconds, I went over to the kitchen, and began searching for something to eat. (What?! I haven't eaten all day! Just because I've been busy doesn't mean I'm not hungry!) A few minutes later, I set two slices of flat bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a banana down on the counter. I put one of the slices of bread in my mouth to hold while I tried to unscrew the lid of the peanut butter jar. Blue energy surrounded the nearest knife I could find, and flew up in the air before I made it float over here, and hover above the banana. With the bread still held in my mouth, I put the jar into the crook of my elbow, and peeled the banana. I shrugged and left the peel on the counter then returned my attention back to the peanut butter.

Meanwhile, I made the knife come down on the banana and sliced it up into little pieces.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone silently making their way over to me. They may be silent, but never try to sneak up on someone who could literally sense every person in the room without even trying.

"Hi," I said absentmindedly, never my eyes of the jar lid as I directed the knife in the direction of the newcomer. I stopped it only when it was a few centimeters away from their face.

"Remind me never to sneak up on you," a familiar voice said wryly. She put her finger up to the tip of the knife, and pushed it slightly so it was directed away from her face. "Multi-tasker, huh?"

"Nat, right?" I asked, calling the knife back to its original task. "Sorry but can never be too careful."

"It's Natasha," she corrected, walking over to the kitchen counter. "But you know what, call me whatever you want. And if you keep running off with that super speed of yours, I'll tell Tony to wax the floors so every time you try to run, you'll fall on your face. Maybe then you'll learn to face problems."

Finally, I lifted my face to meet hers. "Who says I'm running from problems?" I questioned, though my words were muffled by the bread in my mouth. Once I finished with the banana, cutting it into little slices, I put the knife in the sink, and Natasha watched the bright blue energy around it fade.

"Hmm, let's see, you can off behind everyone's back, and hid down in the lab the entire day, fixing a deadly assassin's arm, which says you'd rather hang with the world's deadliest assassin who has over two dozen confirmed kills under his belt than us. Plus you just ran from an argument before it could even start," she smirked, counting them off on her fingers. "And I bet there'll be more running off in the future."

I ignored her, and kept trying to open the peanut butter. The lid was really screwed on tight. "Did Steve screw this thing on!?" I exclaimed in annoyance. Sighing, Natasha took the jar from my hands, and opened it effortlessly. "Showoff," I mumbled, taking the bread out of my mouth.

"It's easy once you've been living with a super soldier for a few months," she shrugged. She picked up a banana slice, and popped it into her mouth. "Next time, come to dinner if you're so hungry."

I glared at for a moment then took the jar from her, and a butter knife from the drawer. As I spread the peanut butter over the bread, I asked, "Don't you have a bad guy to interrogate?"

"Not much of a conversationalist, are you?" Natasha reached over to take the butter knife from me when I stopped her.

"I can do it on my own," I snapped. The only person who ever helped me with these type of things were my parents. And I intend to keep it that way. I don't trust strangers that quickly. Or anyone anymore for that matter. I leave them alone, and they leave me alone.

Natasha raised an eyebrow before reaching over the counter, and wrestled the butter knife from my hand. I put up a fight until she reached out with her other hand, and tickled me under my arm. I held it in for a few seconds...then burst out laughing and loosened my grip. When she finally wrenched the small butter knife out my hand into her own, she shrugged and smirked, "Nice try, kid. Not bad, but try guarding yourself a little more next time."

"I just faced off against an assassin," I huffed, folding my arms across my chest. "Considering that, I'd say I did a pretty good job. Besides, you cheated."

"Your English is pretty good for someone born and raised in Sokovia," she said as she finished the job I started while I watched. "Why's that?"

"My father taught me," I shrugged. "He came from America and met my mother in Sokovia. He taught me sometimes when I had nothing else to do."

"But still got that accent?" She was about to put the two slices of bread together when I put my hand in between to stop her.  
"What are you doing?" I demanded, amused.

"Um, making a peanut butter sandwich," she replied dryly. I shook my head, and got the banana slices. She watched me in confusion.

"No peanut butter sandwich is complete without bananas," I snorted. I placed the slices over the peanut butter, then placed the two slices of bread together. I looked up to see her staring at me weirdly. "What? It's my favorite snack."

"Peanut butter and banana sandwich? That's a first," Natasha said, and scrunched up her nose. "And a bit disgusting if you ask me."

"I didn't," I scoffed, taking a bite. Out the corner of my eye, I noticed Nat pretending to gag. Despite myself, I laughed. "It's better than you think!"

"Not in my book," she fired back. With a fake, innocent smile, I grabbed Nat by the elbow, and led her over to the elevator. No one insults my favorite snack on front of me, and expects to keep getting the nice me. Not tonight anyway.

"Well, this little chat sure was fun," I sighed sarcastically, trying to keep her talking while I waited for the elevator doors to open. "Maybe we should do it again some other time."

"Are you seriously kicking me out?" She chuckled and raised a brow. "You certainly have more guts than half the boys in here."

"Well, it comes naturally." I shrugged, and when the elevator doors opened, I gently turned her around, and then pushed her into the elevator with my free hand. She turned around, and fixed me with a look of amusement. I waved as the doors closed.

"Bye!" I called after her.

"But-"

Whatever she was about to say was cut off when the elevator closed. I grinned, and took a seat on the couch to eat my sandwich. It's a little rude how I treated them, I know, but I'm almost positive it probably won't last anyway. I'm just they're charity case; eventually, once they've done enough to make me feel that they've done me a great favor, and that I'm okay, they'll either turn me into S.H.I.E.L.D, or put me in the foster system. No one wants a freak after all. And that's all I am. It's how the world works

Without my powers, I'd be just as I was before: defenseless and just a waste of space. After all, I'm nothing but a lab rat. Every single thing that's now special about me came from a bottle. I'm no one important. All I am to Stark, probably, is a just charity case for the press to gush over.

Bitterness leaves a bad taste in your mouth. My grin faded into a small frown. Sometimes everything just becomes too much, and I just want to hit something. That familiar anger rose up in me, but I pushed it back down. Instead, I just swallowed the small bits of sandwich in my mouth along with my emotions.

Which only made them rise up faster only seconds later with twice the fury. Angrily, I kicked out at the coffee table. Pain shot up through my foot, but I gladly welcomed it, wanting the pain to be an outlet. When the outside of me was in pain, the inside didn't hurt as much. Like I said before, I'm not that same nice little kid I was back before the shells hit. That boy has been gone for a long, long time. Someone else came out that day I escaped, and I'm not even sure who that boy is anymore.

I used to think of myself one way, but after _this_ , the only thing I'm sure about myself is that I'm...something else. And I guess I'm okay with being just another freak out there in the world, another misfit in this twisted world. 

* * *

Author's note: My longest chapter for this book, and a lot of writing and erasing and brain storming, and I hope you like it. Maybe in the next chapter, I might have Ezra start to slowly trust them just a tiny bit. But it has to be but by bit. For now he's a little bitter. I don't want his relationship development with the others to go too fast. Until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

"Ow!"

"Just hold still!"

"You're ripping out my scalp! How am I supposed to hold still?!"

"Relax. Stop overreacting!" Natasha said as she yanked the comb through my hair. The amount of knots and tangles that had grown in it during the past year were ridiculous. When I tried to do it, the comb got stuck on the first try.

"Ow, ow, ow!" I yelled as she forced the comb through again.

"Stop shouting or I'll put down the comb and pick up a pair of scissors."

"Do it, because you're already taking out so much hair, I'll practically be bald when you're done," I challenged. Her response was another particularly hard yank.

"Maybe you should ease up a bit, Nat," Clint chuckled from the doorway. I glared at him. He was the one who suggested this in the first place, saying I still looked like someone straight off the streets. Technically, I was one, but somehow, that led to this.

Back in the labs, no one had cared what I looked like. Surviving the next tests was the main thing all of us were concerned about. They tended to ignore the bodies of those who didn't survive. I should know. For a few weeks the cell across from mine held the decaying body of a three-year-old until they finally disposed of it. There were no haircuts and no shaving for those who were old enough for it. And now it seems I was paying the consequences for that.

"Do you want to try it?" Natasha asked, continuing to comb out the tangles, taking some hairs out with it. "Trust me. It's not as easy as I make it look."

"But it certainly is as painful," I said without missing a beat, my head forced back when she had to detangle a stubborn knot.

"Look, kid, the sooner we're done here, the sooner you can go," she assured me.

"Why can't we just put this off till later?" I whined.

"Because then it'll only be worse than it is now," Clint stated matter-of-factly. "If it's done now, at least it'll be easier to comb it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I would've stomped my foot on the ground if I wasn't in the position I was right about now. "I have to go through this again tomorrow?"

"On the bright side, I'm almost done." Natasha had reluctantly sat me down with a comb in hand after she noticed me struggling, but I was starting to wish she'd kept walking. To me, it sounded like she was more uncomfortable with this arrangement than I was. Not only because for me, it reminded me of the time Pietro managed to get his gum stuck in my hair and my mother had to get it out in the same way, but also for her because she just didn't seem that comfortable around children at all, especially an enhanced one who was probably unpredictable in her eyes.

"Oh joy," I said dryly, gritting my teeth as she ripped out another knot.

When the pain in my scalp finally stopped, indicating Natasha was done, I never thought I'd be more relieved. I turned to look at her with a glare, folding my arms across my chest. "Don't give me that look," she said, copying me with a slight smirk. "You've been avoiding everyone else all morning so now you're stuck with us."

"I thought you would get the hint if I kept avoiding you, but apparently that was too much to ask for," I snorted.

"We found you fair and square," she stated.

"No, you didn't!" I snapped. "When I tried to run, you tripped me!"

"Well, fair and square was over when you tried to use your speed, Sonic." Putting the comb, Natasha went over to where Clint stood.

"If you're done being huffy," Clint teased, making me turn my glare over to him, "come on. I got something you might like."

"What is it?" I asked, jumping off the foot stool I'd been sitting on the for the past few minutes. Earlier, I found that both of them had made good on their shopping trip yesterday. Natasha had picked out a few outfits for me to be comfortable in. On the other hand, Clint only bought a pair of purple and black Hawkeye socks. I think he's been spending way too much time with Tony.

The only problem with the clothes was that some of it was a size too big on me, but otherwise, it fit well enough. The sleeves of the new blue sweater I had on were too long and I had to roll them up.

To my surprise, Clint slung his arm around my shoulders and tucked me into his side. "You'll see, kid."

"I think you're squishing him," Natasha chuckled.

Clint led me back to the elevator after I snatched a grilled cheese sandwich sitting on a plate on the kitchen counter. Once we settled in, Natasha pressed a button for the ninetieth floor and she started explaining who's floor was whose. My room was situated apparently on Steve's floor asking with someone named Thor. I vaguely remember Clint talking about him to me before. Clint mentioned uneasily that Bucky was going to be on that for as well near Steve.

For now, though, the "Thor" guy was away, so I'd only share the floor with those two. Thankfully, he said, he and Natasha were only a floor above if I needed anything. "Do you not like Bucky?" I frowned at him, pausing mid-chew.

"He's Steve's friend, and he was a good guy before HYDRA, but being brainwashed has its affects," Clint replied, though not quite answering the question.

"Like what?"

"He's just saying that James has bad nightmares and PTSD," Natasha amended, giving Clint a look. "You might have helped him remember, but something like that doesn't just go away without help."

"Oh. Okay." I shrugged and continued eating. "Well, if you're worried about that, I can take care of myself," I told Clint, sending him an unimpressed look. "If you hadn't noticed, I took care of him yesterday and didn't need to be scraped off the floor or anything."

For a moment, he stared at me before saying, "Don't get smart with me, kid."

"Hey, you started it," I shot back with another shrug.

"If you don't want to socialize today, that's okay. Either Clint and I will bring your food here if you don't want to come down, but after that, you're expected to do things in your own," Natasha told me just as we stopped outside the door at the end of the hall.

Clint opened the door and I stepped into a room way larger than even my one back home in Sokovia. The walls were a cornflower blue and there was a king-sized bed covered with even darker blue sheets and numerous pillows piled up against the headboard. Under my feet was beige carpeting and there's a closet near the bed.

Other than that, there was also furniture in the room. A polished wooden nightstand stood on the left side with a white lamp sitting on it. Two clear glass windows gave off a nice view of the city, and looking out of it reminded me how far we were off the ground. A wooden chest of drawers stood to my right in the corner of the room, and to my left, right beside the windows was a desk and comfy-looking chair. On the desk was a sleek black laptop

My expression must have been hilarious because Clint started laughing. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Nice, huh?" he teased, and my awed expression was replaced with an annoyed one. "Bathroom's through that door over there." He pointed to the door on my right. "And of course, Stark had to make it as fancy as possible so have fun messing around with whatever buttons you'll find in the shower stall." My eyes scanned over anything and everything, feeling it was all a bit...much.

"You only get a room instead of an apartment like everyone else because you're still a kid," Natasha said. "Like I said before, you get a break today, but starting tomorrow, you have to head to the communal floor if you want to watch tv or make yourself something to eat like a...peanut butter and banana sandwich."

"It's good!" I snapped defensively, folding my arms over my chest.

She smiled faintly and shook her head. "Whatever you say."

Pulling out the desk chair, I sat down, and Natasha sank into a sitting position on the edge of my new bed, crossing her legs underneath her. Meanwhile, Clint leaned an arm against the back of my chair. "I'll be honest with you, kid. We don't know how long you're going to stay with us." I stared at him until he explained. "We can't make you stay if you don't want to and if someone else had found you first, well, you heard what I said before."

"I'd be contained until they found out what exactly I could do, and how and why," I finished for him. The idea of being stuck in another cell for most of my life made my blood run cold. Or even the thought of being stuck with needles and whatever until these S.H.I.E.L.D. people got what they wanted.

"Even Fury has standards when it comes to children, though," Natasha amended once again, flashing Clint a warning look. She probably just didn't want him to scare me into running again. I couldn't blame her considering she knew of my last experience with organizations like the one she seemed to belong to. "So he sent you to us. He wants monthly updates from us if you show improvement in your abilities and such or if you're a threat to anyone, but that's it during your stay here."

"But no needles, right?" I asked warily.

Natasha paused. "I can promise you that from us, but not from Stark. You know how he is."

"I'll take it," I shrugged. The deal sounded good to me.

"You can stay however long you want and no one will judge you if you decide to leave the tower," Clint said. "We can't make you stay, but we do want to help you, though."

I stayed silent, then finally nodded for them to get I understood. "You've got everything you need plus more when you need it. The laptop's yours as is the tablet sitting in one of the drawers." My eyes widened at Natasha's words, the redhead grinning back.

"They're welcome presents from Stark. When he saw the work you did last night, he said you could join him in the lab anytime you want. As long as you stop disappearing the second he takes his eyes off you," Clint chuckled.

I cockily grinned. "No promises. It's not my fault he's never looking. We have short attention spans. You guys didn't expect me to just sit there, did you?"

"Really shouldn't have," Clint mumbled as he walked away. "Melody's a teenager and she never stops bouncing about for more than five seconds."

"We'll leave you to adjust," Natasha said and got up from her spot on the bed.

I smiled at them and waved as they left. The minute the door closed, my smile faded and I turned my chair around to the computer. Exploring my new room could wait until later after I did a little research for a small project of mine. Settling in to the desk, I allowed myself a small moment of awe to run my fingers over the shiny laptop. Before being taken, my family didn't have much money, but then again, in Sokovia, the same went for many.

Sokovia wasn't a rich, well-developed country such as this one. It was a war-torn place of villages and dirt roads with mules for transport in some places. Violence like what had happened to my family's apartment building wasn't uncommon, but it still took us by surprise. We'd lived in one of the cities, which were the only places semi-modern, but even there the wealthy were few and far between. Most of my inventions were made of scraps of stuff that barely worked anymore to make something new. None of us had the money or time to own any of the fancy things in life. And now here I am with my own laptop and tablet free of charge.

There was still that voice that said I was probably only a charity case to these people, but I reminded myself that I might as well enjoy it while it lasts. I carefully lifted up the lid of the laptop and grinned at the post-it note stuck to the now lit screen that caught my eye. "Welcome to our merry band of misfits. - Tony"

I laughed softly, but couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. Part of me wanted to thank them for everything they'd done so far, but I couldn't. If I got attached and let them in, there was no telling if they'd treat me the same. Not even I know fully what I can do. With every new test, it seemed I could do something different. They were still learning when I escaped. If the Avengers realized how dangerous I could be, would they treat me the same or fear me? Would Clint take me to that room in S.H.I.E.L.D. despite all he and Natasha had said since my powers can be seen as either good or bad depending on whose team I'm on.

Shaking my head, I shoved my worries to the back of my mind. Always time to worry about that later, I told myself.

I took the note off the screen and shoved into a drawer that held a lot of paperclips, notebooks, pens and pencils. Noting the time on the bottom corner of the screen said it was nearly noon, I decided to first take my time getting acquainted with everything the laptop could do before getting started on the real work I intended to do. It seemed silly to do it after this long, but having something like this definitely made it easier.

I checked out all the cool and fun features first, rolling my eyes and letting out a huff whenever I saw some childish game for five-year-olds Tony probably installed as a joke. For the features, I remembered where to find them for future reference, and for the baby games, I remembered where they were so I could put them in the trash later on before heading back to the home screen. I don't know how I missed it, but now that I actually saw the home screen, it was an image of Tony in his Iron Man suit flying over New York, and I rolled my eyes at the man's ego.

Deciding reluctantly to leave the background for now, I clicked on the Internet Explorer icon and as soon as a web page opens up, I'm directed to the search engine.

I nibbled on my bottom lip nervously. Did I really want to do this to myself? I could just do something else, let the questions go and try to leave the whole mess of the past year to rest. But I guess it's like Clint said: something like that doesn't just go away. I need some sense of closure on what happened once my world was turned upside down.

Taking a deep breath, I typed in about the bombing in Sokovia, then remembered at the last minute to type in the date. Instantaneously, my eyes were assaulted by numerous results and pictures that came up. Back then, if it hadn't been obvious, my eyesight wasn't that good, and my glasses are long gone, so I hadn't seen much of the destruction well. It was a lot worse than what I thought I'd seen.

Biting down on my lip so hard, I tasted blood, I scrolled down away from the images before the horrible memories came flashing back. I closed my eyes, readying myself for the search I was doing, telling myself in my head repeatedly that this was my decision. When I reopened them, I clicked on a link for a website holding the statistics about how damage was done. My eyes grazed over the list and number of survivors (few to none) and I ended up searching over the names on the list of those missing and dead.

My parents name were somewhere near the bottom and immediately caught my eye: Erik Maximoff and Magda Maximoff. I stared at them a moment before forcing myself to scan the rest of the list. I saw the names of friends, neighbors, random people I'd seen in the halls but never talked to, but I was looking for the ones I knew from H.Y.D.R.A., the survivors who'd become experiments like me. While some were only known by the numbers they gave us, some had names, though I hardly knew their last ones.

I just looked for those with the first names of the children and teenagers in my experimentation group. Once I found them, I checked to see if they had any living relatives, then searched their name up, seeing the information about them, and I quietly wrote it down down using the notebook and pencils in the first drawer. Making a small list of my own. At the end of it, I had several names down, all people I knew in my group that had ranged from three to seventeen. There was maybe only one person who I knew vaguely enough that I only had to search up the name.

Alex Rivera. His family was from America, but they'd come to help build houses for the poor according to him. At the time, the only people living in Sokovia who weren't from the country were the volunteers who came to help our country be a better place to live in for a summer or a few years, or people who'd come to help out and ended up staying for whatever reason. Alex was nice enough, living down the hall from us in a small apartment like ours, dropping by and offering to each me and my siblings how to play cards or chess. He had spoken with an accent that was different from any I'd heard, not American nor Sokovian.

I'm not sure what his enhancement was, but I knew it was useful to HYDRA. No one else has survived the experiments but me. Those who hadn't died almost instantly from the injections only lasted a small while, the fighters lasting up to a month or two at most, and always in extreme pain each day they lived on. Experimentation literally seemed to drain the life right out of them until there was none left to drain. And those who managed to make it long enough for their abilities to develop were too weak to use or too much a fighter to be the soldier they wanted, and ended up being put to sleep.

Alex was someone who stuck with me, not just because I knew him before the whole mess, but because he still fought against all odds. Before HYDRA, he had been a tall and lean seventeen-year-old boy who taught me to play chess, a ghost of a smile always on his lips, light brown skin, and short dark brown hair. On the last days before he died, I recall him being so thin and frail the clothes we were given kept slipping from his bony shoulders, his caramel-colored skin looking almost gray, his eyes being sunken and ringed with circles so dark they seemed bruised. He'd looked like a corpse, like he was already dead and Dr. Hummel was only playing when a decaying shell.This

He talked to me whenever he could, told me to keep on fighting, that HYDRA could take away many things from me, but my mind was my own. If I remember correctly, he'd be eighteen this year. By the time abilities had developed, whatever they were made Dr. Hummel's scientists desperate to keep him alive. He was given vitamins, feeding tubes, more serums to keep him from dying as soon as the others did, and oddly enough, that's why he'd survived longer than everyone else.

But he was unhappy. Sam told me he'd broken out when he was taken for the next testing. He'd escaped. And then jumped off the top of the building when he saw no other way out. Broken spine, Sam had told me.

Part of me wondered since they'd been known to lie according to my knowledge of HYDRA from Bucky's mind. But I also knew he was probably long dead. There was no other way around it. Death was a concept I had to accept whether I wanted to or not.

By the time I had a very long list of people, all people whose lives and futures had been taken away from them, it was well into the afternoon. I'd lost any appetite I had earlier. Hopefully, Clint would get the hint I didn't want to talk to anyone, but it was doubtful.

I now sat in my desk chair, knees pulled up to my chest, Hawkeye sock-clad feet digging into the seat's cushion. Slightly rocking back and forth, trying to keep the flashbacks at bay, I took shaky breaths, blinking back tears in my eyes. The notebook rested on the desk.

Clint opened the door, holding a sandwich on a plate and a can of soda. "Hey, I--" Blue energy gathered at my fingertips as my fingers twitched and the door slammed shut, the lock clicking in place. "Whoa! You alright, kid?" He started knocking on the door, asking what was wrong and to let him inside.

All the noise in my head, the memories, the emotions I'd repressed were catching up to me and overloading my mind. Why can't everything just be quiet?! I just need peace for five minutes! Mind racing, I rocked back and forth faster, trying to stay calm. The edges of my vision glowed blue, and I tried to push down the emotions before I ended up having a full meltdown.

The lights above me flickered. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. Maybe I wasn't as alright as I liked to make-believe I was. Maybe I was a bit messed up. And they say being around people helps. But right now, all I wanted was to be left alone.


End file.
